


Special Delivery

by JantoJones



Series: Modest Briefings (The 2nd 100) [51]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 02:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20219992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	Special Delivery

The office of Felton International Shipping was one of the public faces of U.N.C.L.E.; not that the public knew this. It looked, to the rest of the world, like any other import/export business, and even operated as such to maintain cover. It also served as a useful way to bolster the U.N.C.L.E. coffers. Its main purpose, however, was as a contact point for any innocent to whom an agent gave the phone number; either to verify their salesman credentials, or to get in touch with said agent. The office was also an innocuous looking mailing address for anything an agent needed to send to headquarters.

Therefore, the large crate which was delivered one particular morning, with a great number of ‘This Way Up’ labels, was unusual, but not surprising. The staff had learned to expect many different letters and packages over the years. They had also learned to expect trouble, even though there had never been any. As such, the crate was thoroughly checked over for anything which could cause harm, such as explosives or gasses. There was no clue as to the contents so, as soon as crowbar was found, it was opened up. What they found inside was not what anyone could have expected.

Inside, sitting on a small ledge in one corner, was top U.N.C.L.E. agent Illya Kuryakin. He looked extremely tired, and there was an ugly purple bruise over his swollen left eye. Clearly, he had been in some sort of altercation; though this was hardly unusual. On the floor, between his feet, there was pail with a tight lid on it, and around his neck was a canteen. He smiled crookedly at all the faces peering in at him. They all recognised him, but no-one could quite believe he’d mailed himself.

“Are you okay, Mr Kuryakin?” asked Rosie Wilding, breaking the silence, and holding out a hand to help him out.

“I am quite well,” he replied, accepting her aid. “Despite appearances. Could you direct me to a telephone please?”

“Of course.”

Walking a little stiffly, Illya allowed himself to be guided to the nearest desk. He picked up the phone and dialled the number that would connect him directly to Alexander Waverly.

“I have the item, Sir,” he stated, when the Old Man answered. “I got into a little trouble, and lost my communicator, but I managed to make my way to the Felton office.”

“Leave the item with them, Mr Kuryakin,” he was told. “A courier will pick it up on the off chance you were followed. I want you back here to debrief, but don’t worry about hurrying. I will be in meetings for the next three hours.”

“Yes Sir,” Illya acknowledged, though he was fairly certain no-one knew what his method of travel had been.

When the conversation was over, a very welcome cup of coffee was placed in front of him.

“You looked like you could do with it,” said Rosie, with a smile. “Would you like me to rustle you up a sandwich?”

Illya returned her smile, getting a little lost in her pale green eyes, and gratefully accepted her offer. 

“You are a life saver. If I wasn’t so filthy, I would offer to take you out for lunch,” he told her. “Although, if you are agreeable, you could join me for dinner.”

“I would love to,” Rosie accepted, trying not to let her excitement show. Not many women were given the opportunity of a date with the enigmatic Russian.

“May I ask you a question?” she continued.

“Of course.”

“You were obviously in that crate for some time,” she said. “How did you deal with, you know, bodily business?”

“I would rather not go into that,” Illya replied, trying to push the rather disgusting memories from his mind. “But I would advise that the pail be disposed of without being opened.”


End file.
